


Light Starch, Heavy Sass

by truth_renowned



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-11 04:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Rose and Peggy visit the dry cleaner. Not surprisingly, it doesn't go as planned. Each chapter is from the POV of Peggy, Rose and Violet, respectively.





	1. Peggy's POV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheron/gifts).



> Thanks to lillianmmalter for betaing.
> 
> Also, I gave Violet a last name because dammit, she deserves one!

“Thanks for coming with me, Peg,” Rose said as she drove around a slowing taxi. “Usually it’s enough for me to handle myself, but the SSR boys must have been wallowing in mud lately. My biggest order yet.”

“I have to get Daniel’s and my dry cleaning anyway.” Peggy shook her head. “And I have no idea why you need to get the other agents’ laundry. They’re grown men and can pick up their own. They’re taking advantage.”

“So am I,” Rose said with a smirk. “I haven’t paid for my own lunch since I’ve been out here.”

Peggy had to laugh; Rose was a true gem. They drove in a companionable silence the remaining distance to the cleaner’s, where Rose expertly slipped into the parallel parking space.

“I never get a space this close,” Rose said as they exited the car. “You must be my lucky charm.”

As Peggy opened the door to Astin’s Dry Cleaning, a tinny bell tinkled overhead, announcing their entrance. Before both women stepped completely into the small lobby, the jovial, stout man behind the counter clapped his hands together.

“Ah, Miss Roberts, Miss Carter! Good morning!”

Peggy was amazed that the shop’s owner remembered her, as this was only her second trip to the establishment. 

“Good morning, Mr. Astin,” Rose said. “How are you?”

“Just glorious, Miss Roberts.” With a stubby finger, he pointed to plastic-draped suits and shirts hanging from a tall metal pipe with a candy cane-like hook at the end. Sitting under the clothing were two laundry bags. One plastic grouping was out of place, having dresses instead of menswear. “Here is everything, including yours, Miss Carter. I have separated out each man’s other laundry items, bundled up in butcher paper and labeled.”

Peggy looked at Rose, questioning. How did he know…?

“I called him before we left,” Rose said. “Figured it would be a quicker trip that way.” She turned to Astin. “Thank you so much, Mr. Astin.”

“My pleasure, my pleasure. Put it on your tab?”

“Please.”

“And same with you, Miss Carter?”

“Yes,” Peggy replied as she reached for her and Daniel’s bundles, along with two others and one of the laundry bags. The top plastic-covered bundle was obviously Daniel’s, as one of his more flamboyant Hawaiian shirts was facing out.

“I wonder if Daniel would notice if this didn’t make it home,” Peggy said, nodding to the shirt.

Rose smirked, gathering up the remaining bundles and bag. “He’d notice.”

The bell over the door tinkled again and in stepped a woman. Peggy was unable to see her face due to the aura of sunlight behind her. Once she stepped fully inside, Peggy gasped at the sight of a person she didn't think she'd see again.

“Violet, fancy meeting you here,” Rose said, then turned to Peggy. “She’s been having trouble with cleaners getting blood out of her uniforms and I recommended this place.”

“Miss Newton!” Astin said brightly. “Welcome back! Excuse me a moment and I will get your uniforms. I believe you will be happy with the results.”

Peggy’s eyebrow quirked at the mention of Violet’s surname. Daniel never mentioned it and she certainly had no reason to ask.

“Hi, Peggy,” Violet said. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Peggy responded. “You?”

“Great, thank you for asking.”

Despite her smile, there was no mistaking the slight crinkle at the corners of Violet’s eyes when she saw Daniel’s shirts in Peggy’s arms.

“We’re still on for Cardiff Reef next week, right?” Rose asked Violet. “I heard there’s a great taco place steps from the beach.”

“I'm looking forward to it.”

Rose turned to Peggy. “One of the muscle guys at Hermosa Beach told us about the killer waves at Cardiff.”

“You’re going surfing?” Peggy asked, shocked.

“Of course,” Rose said matter-of-factly. “Every other week, lunch included.”

“That sounds lovely,” Peggy replied, trying not to show how badly she wanted to leave. She hadn't seen Violet since… well, since she and Daniel finally stopped denying what was obvious to everyone, Violet included.

Rose must have sensed the tension in the air, as she said, “Well, we’ve been gone long enough, Peg. Time to get back to work.”

Peggy nodded and made her way to the door as quickly as she could without making it look like a desperate escape.

“It was good to see you, Peggy,” Violet said.

Peggy tried to keep the astonishment off her face as she turned back to face her. “You as well, Violet.”

“See you Saturday,” Rose called over her shoulder as she walked out, Peggy close behind.

Once they arrived at the car, the women started piling the clothes across the back seat.

“So,” Peggy said as casually as she could, “you and Violet are still friends?”

Rose looked at her, eyebrow raised. “Of course we are. Just because she and Daniel didn’t work out doesn’t matter to me. Violet’s a great gal. She’s fun to be around.” Her expression softened. “I know that must have been uncomfortable for you.”

“No, not at all,” Peggy said quickly.

Rose laughed. “Sure, Peg. You looked very at ease with the conversation.”

Peggy started to protest but then she remembered to whom she was talking. In her peripheral vision, she noticed two men approaching the cleaner’s entrance. Both men, dressed in thick black trench coats in seventy-degree weather, would have been enough to make her suspicious. The fact that she could spot mob muscle faster than she could blink set the hairs at her neck on end.

“I don’t like the looks of them,” Rose said.

“Neither do I.”

Both women turned in tandem and started back, and Peggy yanked the door open.

“He’s closed,” said one man, an imposing fellow, both in width and height, with an acne-scarred face and angry grimace.

“I forgot something,” Peggy tossed back, pretending not to see the gun at his side. She did not, however, pretend to see the look of terror on Violet’s face, which did not fade even as Rose quickly moved to her side and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her. Peggy then glanced at Astin, who looked like he was about to faint. Something wicked this way comes, she thought.

“Too bad,” said another man, this one considerably shorter than his colleague with dark hair so covered in pomade it shined as if it were a black helmet. “We got business here. Get out.”

Peggy gasped, though anyone who knew her knew it was fake shock.

“You heard the man,” said the bigger one, who grabbed Peggy by the arm.

“I beg your pardon,” Peggy said sharply, adopting a flawless American accent. “Did your mother not teach you manners?” She yanked her arm from his grip.

“Don’t sass me. Get out.”

“Come on,” Rose said to Peggy as she locked arms with Violet. “It’s none of our business.”

“Wait,” the man with the shellacked hair said. “On second thought, keep ‘em. We could use some incentive.” He stepped to the door, flipping the lock and the sign to ‘Closed’.

“No, no!” Astin pleaded, tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. “Please! Just let them go! They have nothing to do with this!”

During the exchange, Rose leaned toward Peggy. “I’ve got Pockmark. You take Helmet Head.”

Peggy gave a terse nod, holding back a smirk at the thought that Rose had nicknamed the men exactly what she would have.

Astin continued to sob as Helmet Head approached him, smacking him upside the face with the butt of his gun. Blood flew from Astin’s nose. 

“Anyone in the back, the office?” Helmet Head asked.

Astin shook his head. “No, no! I swear! Just me!”

Obviously not believing him, Helmet Head stepped behind the counter and looked around, peeking around each of the four rows of horseshoe-shaped racks, all filled with plastic-wrapped clothing.

Astin sniffled, trying to staunch the blood flowing from his nose. Violet rushed forward, but skidded to a stop when Pockmark turned his gun on her.

“Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

“No!” Rose said, stepping in front of Violet. “Mr. Astin is hurt. She just wants to help him. Have you no sympathy?”

“Not a lick,” Pockmark said.

With his attention squarely on Violet and Rose, Peggy took the opportunity to kick Pockmark’s gun arm. It was like kicking a steel pole but it was enough surprise him. She pulled back to punch him in the face but he raised his gun and fired. 

A collective “No!” came from Rose and Violet.

The bullet pierced Peggy’s shoulder, not too far from where she had two bullet wounds already. The shot barely registered. She charged forward, catching a glance at Helmet Head, now back at Astin’s side. She landed a kick to Pockmark’s leg but it didn’t do the damage she was hoping. Instead, he grabbed her injured arm and twisted it behind her back. Electric pain from the bullet wound went from her shoulder down her arm, but she still struggled against him.

A sharp “Enough!” brought the melee to an abrupt halt.

A third man entered from behind the racks, and he wrapped his arm around Astin’s neck, putting his pistol’s muzzle to the terrified man’s temple. Helmet Head moved from behind the counter to stand next to Violet and Rose, gun trained on them.

“Tsk, tsk,” the man said, leaning close to Astin’s ear. “What a mess you’ve created, Bob. Three dames in danger thanks to you.”

Through the pain, Peggy carefully took in the new assailant’s appearance. He looked like any ordinary man, of average build and average height, average dark hair and average black suit. His only distinguishing feature was a raised scar that went from his temple, curving away from his eye and down to his earlobe, cutting into the left side of his face like a macabre sideways smile.

Where had he come from? They hadn’t seen him enter through the front, so he must have come through the back door. 

An ambush. 

“What did I tell you about the guns?” the new man asked far too calmly.

Pockmark cleared his throat. “Uh… not to use them unless it was necessary. It was necessary, boss.”

“For these dames?” the man answered, his harsh tone conveying his disgust. 

“But they… she…” Pockmark clamped his lips shut at the seething look from his boss.

The new man shook his head, then looked at Helmet Head and nodded.

Peggy didn’t have the chance to ponder what the nod meant before she felt a sharp pain at her temple and everything faded to black.


	2. Rose's POV

Rose surveyed the room Pockmark and Helmet Head had stuffed them into. It was at the very back of the store, barely bigger than a closet and cramped even more by the presence of three two-foot-high stacks of brand new cloth laundry bags, each stamped with ‘Astin’s Dry Cleaning’ in a cheerful bright blue. The only other things in the room were a push broom, an empty mop bucket complete with wringer, a dirty string mop, and some wire hangers.

Thankfully, the men did not knock out either Violet or her. Rose knew enough to cop a helpless, cowering dame persona, and she knew she could be convincing. One didn't see so many bad acting auditions and not pick up a thing or two.

Also thankfully, they hadn’t searched them, which meant they didn’t know about Peg’s garter holster. It was a tiny gun, her backup, which she assumed Peggy had because she always did. She and Rose hadn’t been packing their usual pieces. Who would, going to the dry cleaner’s? The backup gun would help at close range but wouldn’t be enough to pierce the wooden door. Rose knew she had to get closer to the men to do any damage, and at this point, that wasn’t happening.

During their walk to the glorified closet, Rose took in her surroundings under the veil of huddling next to Violet. Besides the racks, the only equipment Rose saw was an industrial clothes-pressing machine and a professional-grade sewing machine, both against a wall about halfway into the store. There must have been an office somewhere, probably a bathroom as well, but it wasn't part of the tour.

She knew Bob Astin owned at least two storefronts, as well as a large laundry/dry cleaning facility outside of Los Angeles. She assumed that was where all of the actual cleaning happened, as this store was too small to house the equipment needed, but he always was at this location. It was his first, his ‘baby,’ he’d told Rose. She wondered if he knew his ‘baby’ would be invaded by the mob today.

Pockmark was guarding them, standing outside the closed door, while Helmet Head and Scarface were doing God-knows-what to the poor man. Rose had heard of the California mobs shaking down businesses for ‘protection’ from crooks. As if they weren’t crooks themselves! It was a racket, just like all other mob activities. That had to be what this was all about. She wondered briefly if Joseph Manfredi had something to do with it.

She glanced at Violet, who was applying pressure to Peggy’s wound using one of the laundry bags. She’d taken the drawstring off the bag and tied it to Peggy’s shoulder while pressing the fabric over the wound. Despite their predicament, Violet was ever the professional, worried about her patient. Even though her patient was the woman who now had her man…

That wasn’t right, Rose thought. Daniel had been Peggy’s since they first met. And though Peg would deny it, she was his from the start as well. These two stubborn people thought they could live without each other. Rose knew better. It was just such a shame Violet had to be caught in the middle. 

She liked Violet, had from the minute she met her. So much so that they still remained friends, surfing or another fun activity and lunch every other week, something Rose looked forward to and she believed Violet did as well. Violet was different, but a good different. Not the stuffy type and not the man-hungry type. She was so much like Rose: an independent woman who didn’t dwell on what others thought of her. Rose smiled; that sounded an awful lot like Peg as well.

“I think the bullet went clean through,” Violet said. “That’s good, but I don’t like the amount of blood she’s losing. Not to mention, she still hasn’t regained consciousness. We need to get her to the hospital.”

“Peg doesn’t like hospitals.”

“I know but I can’t give her a blood transfusion in the closet of a dry cleaner’s.”

Rose had to concede the point. Peg must be in bad shape if she hadn’t come to yet.

“We need to get out of here,” Violet said softly.

Rose sighed, frustrated. “I know. I’m working on it.”

She had been working on it since they’d been in the room. They needed a reason for Pockmark to come in. It probably wouldn’t help to complain about Peggy needing a hospital. No, they had create a diversion. Something that would cause a commotion but not enough that the big goon would just start firing through the door. What could they...

Rose’s eyebrows quirked up, nearly hitting her hairline. “I have an idea but you’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t like what’s happening now, so it couldn’t get much worse.”

As Rose explained her plan, she could see in Violet’s eyes that her friend was considering her last statement to be wrong.

“You sure this will work?” Violet asked when Rose finished up the details.

Rose shrugged as she moved toward Peggy and Violet. “It’s all I’ve got. Help me move her.”

“Be careful,” Violet warned. “I just got the bleeding under control.”

Rose gingerly lifted Peggy under her shoulders. “Sorry, Peg. I know this hurts.”

Violet took Peggy by the ankles and the women moved her behind the stacks of laundry bags, gently laying her down, out of sight.

Rose thought about taking Peggy’s little gun but her dress didn't have pockets, and small or not, if this plan managed to get Pockmark in the room, he'd see it right away. Better to go with fists for now. Besides, firing a gun would call attention and who knows what they would do to Astin.

“You ready for this?” Rose asked as they walked toward the door.

Violet sighed. “Ready as I can be. I’m not good at this espionage stuff.”

“Just follow my lead. You’ll do fine.” 

With a nod, Violet squared her shoulders and loudly said, “This is all your fault. You told me to come here, and now look what happened.”

“You didn’t have to. There are other dry cleaners out there.”

“And you just had to bring _her_ here.”

Rose put her hands on her hips, getting into the role. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it’s supposed to mean. You knew I’d be here today and you brought the one person I least want to see. She stole my boyfriend!”

“Must not have been too hard, considering how fast he moved on!”

Rose flinched; she hadn’t meant to say that but it came out. She hoped their friendship would survive this...

Violet’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you?!”

“How dare I what?! As far as I’m concerned, the best woman won!”

Violet pulled her arm back and her hand connected with Rose’s face before either woman had a chance to react. Violet cringed and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” 

Rose shook her head, letting her know to keep it up. 

“Oh, how you’ve done it!” Rose yelled.

The doorknob turned and Pockmark entered, his grimace even more downturned.

“What the hell is going on?”

“None of your business,” Rose spit out. “This is between her and me.”

“There ain’t nothing between nobody. Knock it off.”

“I’ll knock something,” Violet said sharply, shoving Rose into Pockmark.

He stumbled, his gun hand moving to his side to steady himself, and it was enough for Rose. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. 

Violet wasted no time, landing a knee between his legs. Pockmark squealed as he doubled over, his free hand going to his crotch as he fell heavily onto his knees. Rose ripped the gun from his other hand and handed it to Violet. 

“What…?” Violet said, staring at the gun as if it were a rattlesnake.

“You know how to use it,” Rose said sharply, recalling their trips to the shooting range. “Just do what I taught you.”

Violet nodded, visibly shaking off any apprehension as she took the gun from Rose and pointed it at Pockmark.

Rose grabbed his hair, lifting his head enough that she could land a solid right hook to his nose. Blood spurted out but she ignored it, hitting him again twice until he fell unconscious to the floor.

“His friends may have heard, so we gotta be quick,” Rose said, running to the bag stacks and grabbing one. She yanked the drawstring out and, pulling Pockmark’s hands behind his back, she secured them as best she could. It wasn’t the best scenario but it would hold him for a while. She wadded up the bag and stuffed as much as she could in Pockmark’s mouth.

“That should keep him quiet,” Rose said as she patted down his legs. As she expected, she found another gun in an ankle holster.

“How did you know he'd have another one?” Violet asked.

“Any self-respecting mobster always has a backup piece.” She eyed the gun. Smith and Wesson Model 19, almost as nice as the Colt in Violet’s hand.

“Let’s go,” Rose said.

“What about Peggy?”

“We’ll have to leave her here.” Off Violet’s wince, she added, “We need to get the other two before they get us.”

A weak “I can help” came from behind the stacks just before Peggy peeked her head around.

“Peg, you’re awake,” Rose said with a relieved sigh. “When did you come to?”

“When you started shouting at each other.”

Rose was about to tell her to come with them but her training kicked in. “You need to stay. You’ll only slow us down.”

Peggy sighed heavily, then said, “I’m fine now.”

Rose glanced at Violet, who shook her head.

“No, you’re not,” Rose replied. “You've lost a lot of blood. Besides, Pockmark here needs a babysitter. I’ve tied his hands but I can’t guarantee it will keep him. Your backup piece is still in its holster, just in case.”

That seemed to placate Peggy, as she nodded before moving her head back out of sight. Rose bit her lip; Peg must be in really bad shape if she didn’t fight her on going with them.

“Maybe we should stay,” Violet offered. “We could wait until they are done with Mr. Astin.” The truth must have been reflected in Rose’s face, as after a few seconds, Violet added, “They have no intention of letting us go, do they?”

Rose thought about lying but knew Violet would see through it. Instead, she shook her head.

The apprehension from earlier clouded Violet’s expression. She was scared, and Rose couldn’t blame her. She was a little scared herself.

“Come on,” Rose said. “I need backup and you’re it.”

“I don’t know…”

Rose motioned for her to follow, knowing she would. Violet was smart, more than capable of figuring out that this was the only option they had. Sure enough, Rose turned and found Violet directly behind her, gun at the ready. 

Listening carefully, Rose heard faint voices coming from somewhere behind the ceiling-mounted racks, more toward the middle of the store. Ever so slowly, she moved past the first rack, trying her best not to rustle the myriad plastic-laden clothing and hoping no one could see their legs from beneath. She couldn’t hear Violet behind her but she knew she was there, so when she reached the end of the final rack, she held up a hand.

Peeking her head around, Rose saw the source of the voices. Sitting in a chair next to the clothes-pressing machine was Astin, his nose and cheeks covered in dried blood and bruises. The top of the machine was up, and steam wafted from the flat-top iron area. Astin was sweating profusely, no doubt because the heat from the steam but also because Scarface had forced him to hold his hand inches from the iron’s surface.

“You really thought you could take money and the boss wouldn’t know?”

“I… I…” Astin’s breath hiccupped. 

“You know what we do to cheaters, don’t you?”

“P…. Please. I’ll give you the money back. I promise.”

“Ain’t good enough. You burned the boss, we burn you.” Clearly proud of his pun, Helmet Head lips parted in a crooked smile.

Rose rolled her eyes before turning around. She motioned to Violet to stay where she was, then pointed to herself and toward where the men were. Violet shook her head furiously but Rose waved her off. The only way to end this was to take action.

Rose stepped slowly around the last rack, giving her the full view of the men, who all were focused on the clothes presser. Aiming the Smith and Wesson at Scarface, she pulled the trigger. The bullet caught him in his hand, and he dropped his gun. Helmet Head turned his gun toward Rose’s direction, and she fired again, missing him.

Astin had the wherewithal to jump up from his chair and run toward the front door. Helmet Head trained his gun at Astin, then back at Rose. His hesitation was enough. Rose fired, hitting Helmet Head squarely in the chest. He dropped to the ground as Astin unlocked the door and ran out.

Scarface was just reaching for his gun on the ground when Rose leveled hers at his head. “Drop the gun and I won’t add to your facial decorations.”

He hesitated, the wheels in his head almost visibly turning as he contemplated his options. Finally, he stood and raised his hands, one dripping with blood.

Rose stepped forward and kicked his gun away. “Now, you’re going to sit in that chair until the cops get here.”

Without warning, Scarface charged Rose, his head down as he rammed into her stomach, knocking both of them to the ground. Her gun went flying, several feet out of her reach, while Scarface crawled on top of her. She pummeled his face with her fists but it did no good. He was too heavy. He managed to get one hand on her neck and he put his full weight on her. She sputtered, trying to catch her breath when he put his wounded hand over her mouth and nose. He was trying to suffocate her and was doing a bang-up job of it.

Rose heard a loud pop, unsure from where, and Scarface yelled out. The pressure on her neck was gone, and she coughed out breaths as she scrambled out from under him. It wasn’t until she stood that she saw a dark stain growing on the lower part of Scarface’s pant leg.

Looking to her left, she saw Violet, gun out in front of her and fear in her wide eyes. As she reached for her own gun, Rose said, “Thanks for having my back.”

“Yeah,” Violet said weakly, her hand wavering as she lowered the gun.

“Why don’t you find the phone and call the cops?”

“Yeah.” Violet finally met Rose’s gaze.

“Ya done good, kid,” Rose said with a smile.

Violet’s returning smile didn’t reach her eyes.


	3. Violet's POV

Violet approached the door and opened it slowly. She looked in, finding Peggy in the hospital bed, wide awake.

“Mind if I come in?” Violet asked.

“Of course not,” Peggy replied, and Violet could tell she may not have meant it. “You’re on duty?”

Violet looked down at her nurse’s uniform. “Yes, but I’m on break. The doctor said he’s releasing you this morning, so you must be feeling better.”

Peggy’s smile was more of a sneer. “Thank goodness. I hate this place. No offense.”

“None taken,” Violet said with a laugh. 

Peggy’s expression shifted, seriousness causing the smile to fade. “I want to thank you, Violet. You saved my life.”

“No, that was Rose’s doing. She got us out of that.”

“But she said you tended to me.”

Violet shrugged. “My instincts kicked in. It probably was my instincts that got us into that mess, trying to help Mr. Astin.” 

“Rose told me you saved her life as well,” Peggy replied. “I'd say your instincts are quite good.”

Violet wasn’t so sure. She still was reeling from the fact that she’d shot a man. He was in police custody but also was a patient in the hospital. She didn’t visit him but did covertly check his chart. The bullet had shattered his ankle. The surgeon said he might walk again but not without a limp. She hadn’t been able to sleep since finding that out. She’d seen the results of gunshot wounds but had never been the source of one. He would be permanently disfigured because of her. She was someone who healed, not maimed! Yes, he was a bad guy and probably would have killed them, but she couldn’t get it out of her head that she had done this. 

Did shooting someone affect Rose and Peggy the same way? Did they endlessly replay the scene? Did they lose sleep? Was it something you got used to? Did you ever want to get used to it?

“Oh,” Violet said, desperate to change the subject, “Rose told me that Mr. Astin is involved with the mob. That’s hard to believe.”

Peggy nodded. “Turns out he was laundering more than just clothing.”

“Money laundering?” Violet couldn't help the wonderment in her voice. “But he seemed so nice. And he looked genuinely shocked to see those mobsters there.”

“He probably was, but only because they discovered he was skimming off the top. Apparently his big laundering facility needed some improvements and he thought he’d found a way to finance it.”

Violet shook her head. “You just can’t tell with some people, can you?”

Peggy’s gaze dropped, and it was crystal clear to Violet how uncomfortable she was. She had a feeling that like Daniel, Peggy wasn't one for talking. So she was surprised when the woman spoke.

“Violet, what you and Rose said at the dry cleaner’s…”

Violet’s eyebrows rose, but she lowered them, trying to look nonchalant. “Oh, we were just acting. Trying to get the man’s attention.”

“I know, but some of that was true. Most of it, actually. Especially the part about me stealing your boyfriend.”

Violet’s lips curled into a sad smile. “You couldn’t steal something that was never truly mine.”

“But Daniel… you were engaged...”

“We were.” She sighed, wondering when this subject would come up. She should have been ready for it, but how do you get ready to talk about the man you lost with the woman you lost him to?

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said softly. “I don’t… we…. You must hate the sight of me.”

Violet shook her head. “Oh, I don’t hate you, Peggy. I don’t blame you, either. I do blame Daniel, but also myself.”

Peggy’s eyes widened. “Violet, there is nothing at all that you did.”

“I know that, but I blame myself for not acknowledging that there was something missing between he and I. I knew it was there, could see it from the start, but I was just so happy.”

Peggy winced, but it was obvious the pain had nothing to do with the gunshot wound.

“But I knew,” Violet continued. “I knew that he wasn’t one hundred percent there for me, and that was the biggest disappointment.”

“Well, the job does take--”

“I wasn’t talking about the job.” Violet huffed out a laugh. “He thought the same thing. You two even think alike. He wasn’t mine, Peggy. He never was, and deep down, I felt it. I was willing to be second best to the job but not to another woman. I don’t deserve that. I deserve someone who isn’t hiding behind me to run away from his feelings. I deserve someone who loves me for me.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Peggy said emphatically. “You deserve that and more.”

Violet smiled and Peggy matched it with a sincere smile of her own.

“Besides,” Violet said, her expression lightening, “this spy stuff is too much for me to take. Maybe a nice, safe insurance man is more in line.” 

Peggy shook her head. “Too boring. You need someone who has the same zest for life you have.”

“True,” she replied, then laughed. “An insurance man. What am I thinking? Ugh!”

Peggy joined in, her guard visibly down for the first time since Violet walked in the room. Also, for the first time, Violet allowed herself to see Peggy not as a threat but an ally. She had thought this when they met, that Peggy was funny and interesting, and it occurred to her in that first meeting that she and Peggy were much alike. They were kin of sorts, just like she and Rose: strong, independent women. Men notwithstanding, she knew she could learn a lot from Peggy, and she liked to believe Peggy could learn from her. 

Surprising herself, Violet started thinking that Peggy Carter could be a friend.

“Would you be interested in joining Rose and I next week?”

Violet watched as the woman in front of her raged an internal war, wanting to say no but intrigued by the invitation. The only indication of that war was the slight quirk of her eyebrow.

“Well... I don’t surf,” Peggy finally said.

 _Nice try_ , Violet thought, but she wasn’t letting her out of it that easily. “Lunch, then. The taco place is right on the beach. We’ll meet you there after we’re done. Just us girls. It would be great if you would come.”

Violet was sure Peggy would say no, her silence and expression projecting her hesitation, but finally, Peggy smiled and said, “I believe I would like that. Thank you.”

Both women turned toward the door as it opened. Daniel walked in, stopping short when he saw Violet. He looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. 

Violet felt a twinge of guilt mixed with satisfaction at his visible discomfort. She still cared for him, even loved him, and she wanted him to be happy. But she wanted to be happy as well. She’d mistakenly thought he was the one for the job but she knew better now. What was that saying her mom would use? Live and learn. She had done both and liked to think she was a better woman because of it.

“She’s going to be fine,” Violet said, stepping away from the bedside.

He nodded. “Thanks to you.” 

With a small laugh, Violet responded, “I seem to be making a habit of it, don’t I?” She turned to Peggy. “It would be a good idea to behave yourself so I don’t have to make it a third time, but that likely will fall on deaf ears.” 

“Most likely,” Daniel responded with a smirk.

Violet walked past him toward the door. “I have to get back to work. The doctor should be in soon with the release papers.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Peggy said, and Daniel nodded in agreement.

Violet nodded, then tossed out, “You can thank me by buying next week.”

As she opened the door, Daniel asked, “What’s next week?”

She smiled as she heard Peggy say, “Lunch with friends.”


End file.
